Thou Shalt Not
by cheetana
Summary: Carrie/The Exorcist crossover. Regan and her family have moved to Carrie's town in a bid to escape the past. But the demon is returning and the resident telepath might just be able to help... femmeslash in later chapters. Rating may rise.
1. Chapter 1

**Thou Shalt Not – chapter 1**

_**Author's Notes (please read):**__ This is a Carrie/The Exorcist crossover. This is set before the events in 'Carrie' (the book, set in 1974), perhaps a few months before the prom. This would make Carrie 17 years of age and Regan 15 (The Exorcist novel is set in 1971). _

_I realise some people may have a problem with this, and I say to you; in The Exorcist, a 12 year old girl is forced to masturbate with a crucifix in front of her own mother, there is very little I can write or do that is worse than that, to be honest._

_**Pairing:**__ Eventual Carrie White/Regan Teresa MacNeil_

_**Warnings:**__ Femmeslash, gore, possession, anti-/overly religious views_

**– -**

**'Matthew 12:43-45**: "_When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none._"'

What is it that draws evil and instability, like a moth to a bright, burning flame? Is it only pure innocence that draws demons, or can anyone suffer the forced slavery as the entity captures you within your own mind?

Demons are drawn to the innocent, children are easily susceptible. And they are fragile souls, even when the demon has been banished they can often be left fractured and damaged.

Regan MacNeil held on to her mother's comforting arm as the older woman unpacked the box at her feet. They were in a new town, in a new life. This was not their first try in the past few years of the fifteen-year-old's life but, she hoped that this town would hold the key to forgetting the past.

"Regan darling, I can't finish unpacking with you hanging on to me like that. Why don't you take those bags upstairs and start unpacking some of your things?" Her mother drew her arm away and hunched over the box, sorting through the contents.

Regan huffed, pouting for a moment before admitting defeat. She bent and hefted the bags up, throwing one over her shoulder and holding the other under her other arm. She poked her pink tongue out at her mother's turned back before turning towards the staircase. With a little hesitance, she stomped up the stairs.

The landing was dark and rather foreboding. There was limited lighting with no windows in the upper hall and the single hanging bulb not functioning. There were three upstairs rooms; large bedroom, a small bedroom and a pokey little bathroom which held more mould than space.

The teen elbowed the door to the smaller bedroom open. She sighed and surveyed the room with an unimpressed expression. It seemed tiny. Her single bed seemed to take up half the room, with her wardrobe overlapping the window, cutting off most of the light. The floorboards were bare, worn and scratched. The walls were adorned with faded, torn wallpaper, most likely from a past nursery, with little ducks and flowers.

Regan dumped the bags down and sat down on her bed, which creaked in protest. From here she could see out of the window. There was a tree outside, it's branches tapping on the glass in the light breeze. She could hear birdsong and see the houses across the street. The sky was grey but the sunshine was strong and she found herself smiling. It was the early Spring and the tree's leaves were beginning to glow, it was thinking of Summer.

She lay back and stared up at the ceiling. It held a few cobwebs and dirty white paint. She rolled her eyes, no doubt her mother would tell her to 'spring clean'. Suddenly, without warning, a flash of _something_ appeared before her. She gave a cry and jerked off the bed, covering her eyes.

A few moments later, Regan heard her mother call in concern. She uncurled on the floor and took her hands from her face, panting. She looked around the room.

There was nothing there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thou Shalt Not – chapter 2**

_**Author's Notes (please read):**__ Hah, look, the yelling worked! This chapter might be a little weird. Most of it was written between 12:00AM and 02:00AM, so yeah... I was half asleep. If it doesn't sound right, or if it doesn't sound like Carrie at all, tell me? I need all the constructive-crit I can get!_

_Step right up, get your answers here!:_

_**Muse of suffering**__ – Crack pairings are indeed awesome my friend! As for Carrie's mother's involvement, we shall see. She will undoubtedly make an appearance or two..._

_**Tugera **__– Well, the 'What If' storyline was originally going to end up as a series including a range of teen horror killer pairings and although that idea was scrapped (t'was a shame) this could definitely be considered a kind of spin-off. _

_And thank you; __**Thomas**__, __**Boris Yeltsin**__, __**OMEGAkid222**__, __**whysoserious:)**__ and __**HEYYOUGUYS!**__ for both compliments and loud requests for updates! I hope you all enjoy the second chapter._

_**Pairing:**__ Eventual Carrie White/Regan Teresa MacNeil_

_**Warnings:**__ Femmeslash, gore, possession, anti-/overly religious views_

- -

_"For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline."_  
2 Timothy 1:7

- -

"Our Father which art in heaven-" Carrie bit her lip, eyes slipping open for a moment to stare up at the well-worn figure of Jesus, nailed to a wooden cross, which hung on her wall, high above her from her kneeling position on the floor.

"-Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come-" her hushed tone broke the cool silence of the room, dim with only a small window, even the bright morning sun could not penetrate the gloom.

"-Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.-" The petite girl scrunched up her face, a stroke of fear blossoming within her as she dreaded the next line. "A-And lead us not into temptation-"

Oh, how she wished she could believe in such things. Although she had her doubts as to the strengths of such temptations in the ways of the Lord, she knew she had been led somewhat astray. Why else would such indecent thoughts of Tommy Ross come to her at night? Was she really as full of sin as her mother often claimed?

"-But deliver us from evil-" Well, she did try to obey the Lord and all His rules and wishes, but perhaps the wickedness ran too deep a stain to be altered by her pains?

"-Amen." Carrie looked up into Jesus' face, feeling dismayed. Oh, she did try her hardest to both follow His teachings and also fit in with the more sinful crowd at school but, it sometimes seemed as though she were doomed to failure in both paths.

The teen stood, her long, thick nightgown falling to brush cheap lace trimming over the roof of her bare feet. She ignored the persistent ache in her knees and shins from kneeling on the hard wooden floorboards, the soreness would fade in time and surely hardships should be endured whilst in prayer, or so was her mother's opinion.

It was early morning and she had few hours to spare before the school bus would round the corner of the next street. It would stop for a few moments so that she, and the other kids in her area, could hastily clamber on before it trundled off in search of more teens to swallow.

Carrie tip-toed slowly out of her room and into the small bathroom off the landing. Once safely locked within, she ran a shallow basinful of lukewarm water and proceeded to pull the nightdress over her head. Her ruffled hair fell back over her face and she shivered, hugging her arms round herself whilst simultaneously squirming in the freezing cold of the dark bathroom. Quailing under the disapproving gazes of Jesus and His disciples, beautifully framed on the opposite wall, the teen dipped a cloth into the water and began to cleanse herself.

She gasped at the first touch of cool water on bared skin, her teeth chattering. Under the stare of holy men, she dared not touch any parts of her body, lest it be misconstrued as sinful behaviour. No, pleasures of the flesh were not for her. Her mother knew much and it was she who had taught Carrie on what was sinful and what was His holy work. And, that her own salvation would not be found when any such touch rested upon her dirty-pillows or between her thighs.

When she was clean, she pulled the nightdress back over her head. It would not do to walk around in the house naked! And although the sinful thought did appeal to her more rebellious side, her mother would undoubtedly catch her and throw her into her prayer closet. A shudder racked her spine. Oh, the closet was a horrible place in it's own right, and to be locked in there for hours? Often a torture in the purest of forms.

She walked back to her room. Her clothes were laid out over the back of her chair, as she usually laid them out, the night before. They were thick, many layers of them. All in aid of hiding the more sinful elements of her shape. To disguise her dirty-pillows and hips, which mother always said were like red flags to a bull but, instead to boys and men in their most sinful of moments, enraging them to abandon God in favour of the taste of flesh.

The teen pulled the last of her layers on, a grey woollen cardigan with small wooden buttons, and stretched her arms up over her head, yawning. Outside, birds were twittering and the shrill calls of young children being taken to school by their parents and sitters could be heard in the distance. Carrie smiled thinly and reached for a brush, dragging the bristles through her long hair, staring at her reflection in the small mirror on her wall. Perhaps today, although it's uncanniness in similarity to all other days, would be a good day?

Downstairs, her mother could be heard, humming one of her most favoured of Biblical verses. As if to remind her to quickly eat something before she had to leave for the school bus, her stomach growled threateningly up at her. Carrie grabbed her school satchel and slowly descended the stairs. If her mother was in good temperament, Carrie could eat and be out of the house within a half hour or so. If she was in a bad temperament however, Carrie would undoubtedly be repeating a long-winded prayer, seeking His forgiveness, and most likely be late for school.

"Good morning Mama."

Her mother turned from her sewing, pausing mid-hum. "Good morning child, have you spoken your morning prayers?"

Carrie nodded enthusiastically, "Yes Mama, I got down on my knees and prayed to the Lord as soon as I woke up."

This seemed to please her mother who nodded, smiling. "Only a sinful child does less."

The teen nodded in response. "Mama, can I have something to eat before school?"

Mrs White rose from where she was seated, walking into the sparse kitchen. She handed Carrie a few slices of home-made bread, a dark gritty mixture that was as unappetizing as it was almost stale. She ate it anyway, savouring it. Beggars were not choosers in the house of the Lord.

After kissing her mother goodbye on her rough cheek, Carrie left the house. She stumbled slightly on the steps down from the door, but righted herself quickly. If she hurried she could still catch the bus in good time. The road was not long and she had reached the bus stop before anyone else. She hunched on the side of the road, her hair falling in front of her face.

She looked up as footsteps approached. The street was not busy, with only the occasional bicycle or car driving down it, so it was quite save for the birds. A girl, a few years younger and certainly a head or two shorter stood opposite her. She had wavy brown hair that framed her young face and she looked nervous, books clutched to her bosom. Carrie did not recognise her.

Before this odd occurrence could amount to anything more, a gaggle of teens arrived causing Carrie to begrudgingly back away to avoid being trapped in a crowd who despised her and would taunt her from all sides. The school bus arrived soon after and Carrie watched as the nameless girl hopped on in front of her, curious as to who she was and where she had come from.


	3. Chapter 3

_**[Author's Notes: **_Hey again! Long time no see! I've been procrastinating and ill. More the former and only fractionally the latter. Anyway, here is a likely short and unsatisfying update.

Thank you everyone for reviews. They make me really happy!

I was researching into the sequels/prequels as I had not actually known they existed (I knew about the Carrie remake but nothing else).

I don't know whether I'll be using all the prequels/sequels because; 1: I haven't seen any of them and 2: I don't know how relevant they are to this storyline. If any of you have seen them and can tell me which ones I might find useful, I would be most grateful. As it is, I'm using both the film and novel versions of Carrie and The Exorcist, and Carrie the Musical as reference.

Sorry to have taken so long!

Also: Please ignore me epic!failing at 1970's American slang: I am British and I was born in the early 90s, my knowledge is rather limited.]

oOo

"_Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."  
- _Bible, I Peter (ch. V, v. 8)

oOo

The world seemed to fade into an incomprehensible clash of noise, sound and movement as Regan stared at the blackboard, as though in a trance. Once, she had been as animated and as involved as any of the students around her, but she could never go back. Not after the experience of possession.

She had bobbed back, when she had still been twelve, at least to a certain degree. Something had never felt quite right in her after that, and she had been too innocent to understand that she had been tainted by the evil. Regan was not the same as everyone else around her, and the teacher's low hum of historical knowledge was not enough to draw her out of her haze.

Her elbow thumped onto the hard wood of the desk and she practically head-butted her loose fist, chin cupped in a palm and bored eyes flicking over scrawled-over oak and unused paper. Regan sighed, eyelids flickering as the sound of girls giggling blurted from the desks behind hers. The teen's fingers on her right hand twitched towards her discarded pencil and she found that she was almost tempted to take notes, despite them likely having no coherent meaning with her having missed half the lesson due to distraction.

Something caught her eyes suddenly, and Regan swished her paper over with the palm of her right hand. Carved into the table were the words "Carrie White eats shit".

She sat up, staring at the sentence; it was hardly a strange anomaly when compared to the rest of the graffiti throughout the school. Even on the desk itself it should hardly stand out against all the other words, sentences and various scribbles but somehow, it did. As though a cold wind had suddenly blown in through the open window, foreboding little chills pricked at her skin and Regan shivered and hurriedly shoved her papers over the words once more.

oOo

"You're a fat, ugly pig Carrie White-"

"Eugh! Don't stand by us you-"

"Did you see all those greasy pimples?-"

"-heard her mother's absolutely crazy-"

Carrie bit her lip, her hands clenching around the tray clasped in her hands. She was forbidden, or had been at the start of her school years, to eat with the other students. But even if this small act of defiance had been discovered, the punishment would be mild compared to what would happen should her mother discover that she also abstained from getting to her knees at the cafeteria tables and thanking the Lord.

The harsh words and taunts from around her burned within her eardrums and hot liquid twitched in the gentle folds of her eyelids, threatening to fall as furious tears. No matter how many years passed full of the same hatred-filled commentary on her appearance, her family, her world, her vileness, she just could not help but listen.

It was that mixture of confused anger-hurt that seemed an almost constant state of mind of hers. The anger was confusing as she could not, after all, retaliate to their taunts; it was a sin to give into wrath. And the hurt was confusing as she knew she should accept their words and turn the other cheek. Sometimes, Carrie found herself thinking of hurting those who spit at her and used her name as a curse, it was a sinful indulgence, such thoughts, but they built a warm fire inside her and she ached to cause the others the same pain she often felt.

Moments passed and feet shuffled as the lunch queue moved fraction by fraction, individuals and pairs breaking off and striding out into the cafeteria, their trays filled. The girls behind her were still throwing the occasional insult, but now seemed more interested in discussing The Prom and What -OhMiGawd- Are They Going To Wear? Carrie felt a twinge of longing but stifled it, squaring her shoulders and finally arriving at the lunch ladies counter. She surrendered her tray and empty plate to the silently scowling woman in a hairnet and slid over to retrieve it, now occupied with food.

Carrie turned, gritting her teeth as her eyes searched the sea of students, looking for some non-hostile nook or cranny to dine within. The teen noticed an empty table and she made her way towards it, hair falling in her face as she bowed her head against the tidal wave of glares that greeted her every shuffling step.

Down clunked the tray, food jumping fractionally at the impact and Carrie thumped herself down in one of the uncomfortable plastic red chairs, legs splaying out involuntarily in an unladylike manner. The teen shuffled around until she was hunched over the table and her knees firmly together in a forced squeeze of flesh and cloth. As the momentary silence around her ceased and the idle chatter of the students on the neighbouring tables returned, she allowed herself a sigh and a slight quirk of her lips. Now she could eat and enjoy listening in to the various snatches of conversations from all sides.

oOo

Regan floundered at the cafeteria, the assessing gaze of what seemed like hundreds of faces, hundreds of hard-faced and spiteful adolescents staring back at her as though she'd suddenly turned into some kind of foul alien, a squirming worm. And she did squirm, the fabric of her socks scratching at her ankles as her feet twisted uncomfortably, shoes squeaking against the laminate floor.

She was still too new and not drop-dead gorgeous enough as to have been grabbed by some potential friend or two. It was here that it would cost her. The cafeteria made any lone individual an enemy, lit up with a spot-light and no excessive blinking would make those condescending looks disappear.

Evasive manoeuvres were in order. She spied a near-empty table and rushed for it, trying to hurry without appearing to be. At her old school she'd been a happy member of a large gaggle of girls, they'd even claimed their own table in the cafeteria. She had just blended into the group, another bashful brunette in a knee-length skirt. Here she felt so exposed.

Placing her tray on the table with shaking fingers, she hovered uncertainly before sitting, worried that the tables' only other occupant, a taller girl with long scraggly hair, would tell her to go away. When no such words came forth, she slid into one of the seats with a sigh of relief, air rushing past her teeth. Regan stared across the table at the hunched shoulders and a face hidden by hair and decided that she had probably landed herself at the crazies table. Not a good strategy on your first day of school. She cleared her throat nervously.

oOo

Carrie stiffened when someone drew into her line of sight, a silhouetted shape through the strands of her hair. When something clunked onto the table across from her, her hands had tightened around her fork, the metal biting onto her palm. When she heard the screech of chair legs against the floor and then heard more than saw the silhouetted shape sit down she un-squeezed her legs and let both ankles loosen up, ready to bolt.

It was not that she didn't want company; in fact she often craved it. It was more that, well, bad things tended to happen when others approached her. Usually it was just a mean trick and the niceties would swiftly turn to taunting and cruel treatment. Other times her mother pushed or forced others away. When the person across from her cleared their throat, Carrie bit her lip in concern, but looked up, both curious and defensive.

It was the strange girl from the bus stop that morning. Carrie frowned, confused. Why on Earth had this girl decided to sit here instead of at one of the other tables? It made no sense. She herself was not pretty or interesting or anything like any of _them_, those that taunted and mocked her, so why, why had this girl chosen to sit with _her_?

oOo

The term 'awkward silence' was aptly named. Regan felt a blush streak across her cheeks and she squirmed in hot embarrassment as the strange girl stared at her from across the table. The unease at the other's stony, almost expectant, silent stare grew unbearable, and Regan found herself blurting the first inane thing that came into her mind.

"Uh... Hi! I'm new here, n-nice weather we're having, huh?" Cringe. Stupid, please go bang your stupid head into something hard now, silly girl. Teeth grit into a grimace and the teen wriggled, inching her way up off the chair.

oOo

Carrie blinked, actually straightening up against the back of the chair in surprise and confusion. This was wrong, the script was mangled and confusing and incorrect. Where was the scorn? The tray of food in her face, smearing over pimply skin? It made no sense!

She floundered for several lengthy moments before realising she had to respond to the social niceties, although she was unsure of the script; she would have to make it up. "H-hello..." Weather! The other had mentioned weather, right? "Yes, uh, the weather is fine out today; it's not raining or anything." Was that right? She wasn't sure.

oOo

Regan suddenly felt like giggling, not really in amusement, more bemusement than anything. The older girl's verbal bumbling was quite endearing... or possibly creepy, she hadn't decided yet. She stuck out her hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Regan MacNeil, what's your name?"

oOo

It was odd to receive the sort of greeting new neighbours had tried to bestow on her mother over the years. Her mama usually ignored the handshake and preached the Lord's gospel, the grins would slowly ebb and people would sometimes even back away. Carrie guessed they thought her mother was strange, peculiar. The dainty, pale fingers outstretched across the table seemed innocent enough so she stuck a hand out to wrap around 'Regan's. Palm touched palm and she flushed suddenly as that small hand tightened and shook hers and rose-coloured lips twirked up into a smile.

Carrie felt her own mouth curve up in response, a shy, little Mona Lisa smile gracing her features, and flickering in her eyes. The other girl had not let go of her hand, and she felt hesitant to initiate the loss of contact. "My name's Carrie, Carrie White."

oOo

Regan's smile wavered. _This_ was Carrie White? She seemed relatively harmless, why on Earth would someone want her to eat shit? "Well it's really nice to meet yo-"

"Eww, looks like Scary White's making some ugly friends!"

Regan whirled round to see a group of older girls. Two girls stood at the front of the group, one wearing a red baseball cap and an ugly grin, the other a tall blonde who wore a sneer and swirled gum between her teeth. She disliked them immediately.

"You're right Chris, what a spastic." Norma giggled nastily.

Regan felt her free hand clench into a fist. She didn't notice Carrie stiffening, but she noticed the tightening around her fingers, still entwined with the older girl's.

Chris sneered, "Hey kid, let me clue you in, that thing you're sitting with, it's a pig. A real Jesus freak. You wanna be seen with _that_? You're totally wack." Chris turned from the younger girl to sneer down at Carrie, "and you should know better than to tool kids into being sickos like you. You eat shit."

Unbeknownst to the assembled, the table began to shake imperceptibly, the juice in each plastic cup turning into shifting waves and cutlery clinking against each other.

Regan pushed her chair back and stood up, glaring at the taller girl. "Hey! What did she ever do to you? Leave us alone!"

Carrie sat, glancing between Regan and Chris, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She detested confrontation; she had given up on it with the others at school and usually it meant nothing with her mother who would win every argument and fight with harsh words and a harsher violence. Somehow it felt so much more awkward when someone else fought on her behalf. Her fingers clenched into fists and the trays on the table began to scrape across the surface, juddering slightly.

Chris stepped forward and shoved the defiant younger girl roughly, making Regan stumble back involuntarily. "I'll do what I want, bitch. What are you gunna do if we _don't_ leave you alone, huh? Cry for your mama?" She spat, her gum splatting wetly onto Regan's face, leaving a glob of foamy saliva next to the brunette's nose before sliding down her cheek to the floor.

Regan let out a disgusted yelp as slimy spittle dripped down her skin. She felt like she was frozen as laughter erupted from the surrounding tables. There was a horrible long pause then as people turned, everyone in the room turning almost simultaneously, to look right at her, sound erupting; jeers, taunts and laughter. Chris was laughing, those other girls were laughing... Regan felt hot tears rick at her eyelids, her nostrils burning, her cheeks flushed with shame. She reached up a hand, liquid and eyelashes blurring her vision, swiping at the saliva on her face. Her hands shook.

Carrie stood up, her eyes wide with anger. Her tray jerked upwards, flying forwards, smack-bang into Chris's sneering face. Food and juice sloshed all over the blonde teen, in her hair and over her clothes. The tray fell to the floor with thud, followed by the bang of the plate and cup. It echoed throughout the now almost silent hall.

Chris stood stock still for one shocked moment before shouting "Shit, you bitch! I'm gunna get you, you PIG!" People had started laughing again, pointing at Chris. She turned on her heel with a death-glare, running out of the cafeteria, followed by Norma and the rest of their group, all sneaking looks of horror and anger back at the two girls.

Regan stared at Carrie, one hand clenched in her shirt, the other hanging limply by her side. The brunette's eyes were wide with shock and confusion at what she had witnessed.

Carrie had not touched the tray.

Perhaps the realisation flickered in her eyes, perhaps she just looked guilty. Whatever the reason, Carrie now looked a cross between livid and terrified, her shoulders hunching and her mouth twisting into odd, pained shapes. Regan couldn't work out why, if the demon had thrown the tray – but she was awake, she couldn't be possessed, she had been trapped inside herself before...

Regan bit her lip, pointedly ignoring the kids who were still staring. "Would you like to get out of here?" she wasn't sure what the older girl would do. Possibly throw a tray at her.

Carrie straightened up in confusion, there was a pause before she gave a tiny, nervous, little hesitant smile, "Okay." She crept around the table and stood next to Regan, hooking her satchel strap over her left shoulder, hunching a little awkwardly.

They walked out, painfully aware of the stares, glares and whispers following them out the door. Regan was mulling over the fact that she had seen the tray move on its own. Carrie was wondering if Chris was laying in wait for her somewhere, planning something horrible...


End file.
